The Place Without a Name

In a dream, I was in a house…

not my own.

I moved towards the door,
and someone stood before me.
A look seemed to say, ‘Do not go—stay.’
Nothing was said,
but in that stance,
in the depth of that gaze,
it was as if I heard, ‘You are needed.’

I stood still.

I do not remember the whole dream,
but I have not forgotten the feeling.

Something I could not name,
yet whose presence was always felt.
Close,
yet distant.
There,
yet seemingly absent.

Over time I understood: some feelings have no name.

It was like a light quietly illuminating a lonely part within.

It was being in the moment.

Hidden in small moments;
in the scent of coffee,
in music,
in a glance.

We made no promises,
nor asked for anything.
We simply shared;
a stretch of time, some songs…

Sometimes I think,
perhaps all these feelings are only passing through

to leave a few lines behind.

Then they quietly leave,
for a place without a name.

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